


The Headless Horesman?

by Grumpymagrat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 18:17:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grumpymagrat/pseuds/Grumpymagrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a series of decapitations occur on Halloween, could it be the Headless Horseman coming to collect?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Headless Horesman?

**Author's Note:**

> By: GrumpyMagrat and Magratconvert

"I just don't see a case here, Dean." Sam sat in the passenger seat of the Impala while flipping through a folder containing some old newspaper clippings.

Dean pressed a little harder on the gas and felt the car surge with more power. "What'd you mean, you don't see a case? It's all right there."

"Right where? All you have here is a stack of newspaper clippings on some random deaths over the past thirty-five years."

"Random? How can you say they're random? And it's thirty-eight years."

Sam picked up a couple of clippings that had fallen to the floor. "Thirty-five…thirty-eight. Like I can make heads or tails of this mess!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Forgive me, oh Great One. Not all of us have your prowess on the Net. Besides, some of the older ones aren't on the Net."

"Well, the least you could've done was put these in chronological order. And how'd you get the older ones anyway? They're older than you are."

"Uhm…well…actually, they were sent to me."

Sam laughed out loud. "So, this isn't really your case. Who sent it to you?"

"Who, isn't important. Let's get back to the job. Over the last thirty-eight years, there have been eleven deaths on the Gibson Bridge, all on Halloween and all decapitations."

"But it's NOT every Halloween. It's probably more coincidence than supernatural. I mean if you look at the picture of the area, it's a pretty rustic area. There's not much around it, and it shows a barb wire fence running down to the creek. Maybe the victims, for whatever reason, got caught in that."

"There's only two problems with your theory."

"Oh yeah, what?"

"First off, of the eleven victims, none of their heads have been found."

"You're kidding!" Sam began shuffling through the papers again. "How do the cops explain that?"

Dean laughed silently at his brother's sudden interest. He shrugged. "They just figure that some animal makes off with the head before they arrive on the scene."

"That doesn't make any sense," Sam mumbled. "They couldn't all disappear." Turning to his brother, he continued. "You said two things. What's the other?"

"The story of Linda Pulaski…"

There was a few seconds of silence. "Are you going to tell me, or do I have to hunt for it in this stack?" Sam hated it when his brother doled out information in little bit increments. Dean may find it funny but it was really annoying.

"Linda Pulaski was the girlfriend of the third victim. It was in 1976. She claimed that she and her boyfriend, David Mitchell, were heading to a Halloween party. As they crossed the bridge, they came across a motorcycle lying in the middle of the road. They got out to investigate and according to Linda, a dark figure came out of nowhere and attacked David. He was thrown over the bridge into the fence, cutting his head off. Once he was dead, both the figure and the motorcycle disappeared."

"And I'm sure the police totally believed her."

"Oh yeah. And so did the jury. She got seven years for manslaughter."

"Manslaughter?"

"Yeah, the prosecutor figured that she made up that story to cover up the fact that he went off the bridge during a 'lover's quarrel'."

"Poor thing. Okay, I guess there is a case here."

"Great. Ohio, here we come." Dean drove on while Sam took the time to thoroughly read all the newspaper clippings.

Sam and Dean, in their suits, sat side by side on a sofa. Sam was taking notes while Dean was questioning the wife of the previous year's victim, Mrs. Amanda Weston.

"So, when was the last time you saw your husband alive, Mrs. Weston?"

"It was the morning of Halloween, before work."

"Now, according to the police report…." Dean casually looked in the file. "…your husband's accident occurred approximately around 8:45 pm that night. You didn't see him after work?"

Amanda gave Dean a hard look. "I'm not sure that I care for your implication, detective. Just why is the state police dragging this up now, almost a year after the accident? You guys seemed more than happy to let the local police handle the investigation. What's changed?"

"We have our reasons. Now, please answer the question."

"Fine," she huffed. "No, I didn't see him after work. I was scheduled to work a double shift at the restaurant. We had arranged to meet at his sister's Halloween party around nine. Matt never made it."

"Did he seem upset or distracted that morning?"

"No, he was in a good mood. We were a little rushed that morning…but no big deal."

Sam stopped writing and asked his own question. "Why were you rushed?"

Amanda reddened slightly. "Not that it's any of your business…but we were running late because, oh how do I put this nicely? We were engaged in one of the more pleasurable aspects of married life."

It was Sam's turn to redden. "Got it."

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam and continued his own questions. "How did he get along with others? Did he have any enemies? Someone, who'd be out for revenge?"

"No, everyone loved Matt. He was someone people could count on. You know…if they needed help with moving or building a playhouse, or just listening to their problems."

"Tell me, Mrs. Weston. Did you or your husband ever hear about the dangers of driving that particular stretch of road on Halloween night?"

Amanda stood abruptly. "That's it. Get out."

"Mrs. Weston?"

"I said get out. You're no police detectives, not if you're buying into those ridiculous ghost stories."

"Please sit back down, Mrs. Weston," Sam encouraged, taking control of the situation. "We'll try to explain."

When she did sit back down, Dean gave Sam his "you handle it" look. So he continued. "Look, our orders were to keep this as quiet as possible. It's not that we're 'buying into' the ghost story but there have been an unusually high number of accidents on Halloween. Now, it could be just a coincidence but there's also the possibility that someone is using the ghost story to cover up multiple murders."

"A serial killer? Here? This is just a small town. I can't believe it."

"Well, we don't have anything concrete, yet. So, we'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything. It could spook our suspect, plus cause a panic among the general public."

"You have a suspect? Who is it?"

Dean picked up the story from Sam. "We're not at liberty to say right now. You wouldn't want to jeopardize the investigation, now would you?"

"No, of course not but I don't know what more I can tell you. I just can't picture anyone I know as a serial killer."

Dean pulled out an official looking business card and handed it to her. "If you remember anything else, here is the number where you can reach me."

"Thank you, Detective Osborne. Do you think there'll be another death this year?"

"Not if we can help it," Dean replied, as he and Sam made their way to the door.

Once they were back in the Impala, Dean smirked. "Pretty slick story, Sammy."

"Yeah, right. You would've made up a story but you wanted to see me swing in the wind."

"But of course. I need to keep you on your toes."

"Whatever. Where are we going now?"

"We're meeting up with the girl who sent me the case."

"A girl? Aw, man, Dean. Let me guess. You had a fling with her while you were on a case."

"And that's a problem?"

Sam shook his head and muttered under his breath. "It's going to be Cape Girardeau all over again."

"Quit gripping. We're here."

"Already? That was fast."

"Like you would know. Come on. Linda should be home from work by now."

Sam followed his brother onto the front porch. Before either had a chance to knock, the door abruptly opened and a slim, young blond threw herself into Dean's arm and initiated a long, hot, steamy kiss. When they finally parted, Linda breathlessly exclaimed. "Dean Winchester…I can't believe you really came."

"I told you that I would."

"You also told me that you would call but we both know how that turned out."

"Well…you know with my job and all…," Dean stammered. Sam cleared his throat to get his brother's attention. "Oh yeah….this is my brother, Sam. Sam, this is Linda Starks."

Linda reached out and shook Sam's hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"Same here."

"Come on," Dean said. "Let's go talk about the case."

The trio sat down at the dining room table and Linda opened up an identical folder to the one Dean had. "You know, Dean, when you left me saying that you had to go hunt ghosts and demons, I thought you were just handing me a line. Who knew that a few years later, I would be calling on your expertise?"

"Life is just funny that way."

"So, you're the one who sent this stuff to Dean?" Sam interjected.

Linda looked first at Dean and then at Sam. "Yeah, didn't your brother tell you?"

Sam snorted in disgust. "No, he didn't. Apparently, my brother thinks it's funny to make me look like a fool."

"Aw, come on, Sammy. I gotta have some fun."

"Dean, you're incorrigible," Linda laughed.

Dean joined in the laughter. "And you loved me for it."

"In your dreams."

"Ach, Linda, you wound me."

"Can we get back to the case?" Sam broke in. "Or should I wait in the car while you two get reacquainted?"

"Jeez, a little touchy, aren't you?" Linda commented.

Dean snickered. "He always has been. I think it stems from poor potty training issues."

"Really, Dean…must we?" Sam angrily got up to leave.

"Okay, okay, no more jokes." Dean motioned for Sam to sit back down. "Back to the case."

Sam sat back down and looked at Linda. "Okay, so how are you connected to this case?"

Linda went back to her file. "My mother collected all this information. It was her hope to figure out what happened to her sister and clear her name."

"Let me guess, Linda Pulaski?"

"Good thinking there, Sherlock. My mom was only sixteen when her sister was convicted and sent to prison. It devastated her."

"Can we talk to you mom? She may have information that she doesn't even realize."

A look of sadness crossed Linda's face. "She passed away six months ago, breast cancer."

"I'm sorry."

Linda cleared her throat. "Thank you. It's hard but I'm dealing. Anyways, shortly before her death, mom asked me to keep trying. After reading the information she collected, I thought about Dean and his 'job'. It took me a while to track him down but when I did, I sent him a copy of the file and asked his opinion."

"So, what did your mom think? Did she believe your Aunt's story about the ghost?" Sam continued.

"She never believed that Aunt Linda killed Dave but she didn't believe the 'ghost' did it either. She thought the real killer drugged my Aunt or something to make her believe she saw a ghost. At one time, she even thought she had the perfect suspect. Dave's ex-girlfriend, Cathy Morris but she was never able to prove it."

"What did your Aunt say about your mother's suspicions?" Dean asked.

"Ever since she was released from prison, she refuses to talk about it."

"Does she live around here?" Dean continued. "Do you think she'll talk to us?"

"Oh, I don't know. They are such horrible memories for her. I don't know if I can ask her to relive them."

"What about this Cathy Morris?" Sam wanted to know. "Could your mother have been right? Could she have done them all?"

Linda shook her head. "No, Cathy was killed in a car accident about five years ago and there have been more deaths since then."

Dean smacked his open palm against the table. "Great. We have less than three days to figure out what the hell is killing people and taking their heads."

"The headless horseman?" Sammy smirked.

"Ha ha, Sammy. Look Linda, it's really important that we talk to your Aunt. Right now she's the only eye witness. Please try to convince her to talk to us."

"Okay, I'll try. Where will you guys be?"

"We'll be around, doing our job."

The next afternoon, the two brothers were once again at Linda's table. This time a fourth person joined them. Linda made the introductions. "This is my Aunt Linda. Aunt Linda…this is Dean and that is Sam. These guys investigate what people consider, supernatural."

"Something like X-Files?"

"I guess you could look at it that way. I'm Fox Mulder and this here is Dana Scully," Dean laughed lightly.

"Excuse him. He thinks he's funny but well, as you can see…!" Sam said, rolling his eyes. "Seriously, we investigate supernatural problems but we aren't associated with any government. We are strictly on our own. Anyway, thank you for meeting with us. I know how difficult this must be."

Linda snorted in a bit of disgust. "Oh, really? You know this is difficult, do you? Did you lose your boyfriend to some freakish thing right out of a horror movie? How about serving time for it? Or having all your friends and most of your family think you're totally nuts?"

"Aunt Linda, please…they just want to help."

"Dragging this up thirty-some years later can't help me. It won't bring David back and it certainly won't give me back those lost years. There's no reason to drag it up now."

"Ma'am, I know this is hard to believe but I do understand. Not quite two years ago, I lost my girlfriend to a demon; the same demon that killed my mother when I was six months old. And it didn't just stop with Jessica. Over the past year, I've lost friends and my father in ways you couldn't imagine. I've thought about quitting. Hell, I even did quit for a while when I was a younger. I was going to college which was where I met Jess. After her death, I got back into hunting. First it was for revenge, I wanted to kill every ghost, demon or whatever I could get my hands on but as time has gone by, I look at it differently now. Even though I know I can't bring my loved ones back, I can draw comfort at knowing that I'm saving others form suffering the same fate. Couldn't you look at it the same way?"

"I swore to myself a long time ago that I would never speak of it again."

"But that was when you thought no one would believe you. I don't blame you. Who would want to set themselves up for ridicule? That's not happening here. We know what kind of monsters are really out there. We just need as much information as we can get so we can stop this thing."

"Please, Aunt Linda, talk to them…just this one time."

The older Linda closed her eyes and exhaled loudly. "What do you want to know?"

Dean spoke up for the first time. "Just tell us in your own words what happened that night."

She nodded and let her thoughts drift back to that terrible night. "It was Halloween, obviously. We had been out of high school for over a year. One of our classmates decided it would be neat to get the class together and have a party. Sue had married right out of school and lived on a farm. There was going to be a bonfire and a hayride. Dave really wanted to go. He said it would be fun to get together with the old gang. There was also supposed to be a 'best costume' contest. I didn't want to do it but Dave did. He was always more adventurous that way. He even got the costumes for us. We headed out around seven."

"Excuse me," Sam interrupted. "You were in costume? Do you remember what they were?"

"Does it really matter?"

"It might."

"Okay, I was a fifties era teeny bopper…poodle skirt, white blouse, lettered sweater and saddle shoes. Dave went as James Dean…blue jeans, white tee shirt, leather jacket. He even greased his hair into that curl in the front. Anything else about the costumes?"

"No, I think that covers it. What happened on the way to the party?"

"Nothing spectacular, we just talked. You know, normal stuff…how his day went, who we expected to see at the party; that kind of stuff. Then we got to Gibson Bridge and everything changed. We could see something lying in the road but it wasn't until we got closer that we realized that it was a motorcycle." She paused as her emotions began to overwhelm her.

Young Linda placed a hand over her Aunt's. "Do you need a break?"

The older woman shook her head. "No, I want to get this over with." She took a deep breath and continued. "We both got out to investigate. The bike was close to the one side of the bridge. There was a skid mark that stopped a few feet short of where it had stopped. Between the two, there was what looked like pieces of metal that were torn away from it. I was getting spooked. Something just didn't seem right. I wanted to get away. I told Dave we should leave and call the police from the nearest phone. Dave though, headed to the edge of the bridge. He said the driver was probably thrown from the bike after losing control. He said something about the skid marks but I didn't catch it all."

Dean nodded and tried to explain. "The fact that the skid mark stopped before the bike shows that the brake had been released. The pieces of metal you saw would also support that theory."

"How so?" the niece asked.

"The rider hits the brakes and creates a skid. He then loses control and is thrown off. The skid mark stops and the bike slides to a stop, leaving pieces of metal along the way."

"Anyways," the aunt pulled the story back. "Dave looked over the edge and suddenly…I'm not sure how to explain it…this figure came out of nowhere and picked him up and threw him over the edge. I couldn't believe it. I ran to the edge and looked over. I screamed for Dave. Time seemed to go haywire. It seemed to fly and drag at the same time. Then I saw him. He was dead. He was…he had hit…his head…it was gone. I remember screaming again. I thought I was going to be sick. All of a sudden, I remembered the attack. I figured I would be next. I turned, hoping to somehow defend myself and he was gone. It was all gone. The figure, the bike. There was no sign of any of it."

"Can you give us a description of the attacker?" Sam questioned. "Height, weight, hair color?"

Linda shook her head. "It all happened so fast. The only thing about him I remember was a dark figure that moved really fast, almost too fast. He wasn't there one second and then he was suddenly there. I didn't even notice the movement until I saw him behind Dave."

"Are you sure? Think hard. Even the littlest detail could help us."

"Well, there was one thing. I chalked it up to the figure moving so fast."

"What was it?"

"It looked like the figure was missing its head. I know that sounds weird. He probably had his shoulders hunched up to purposely make it look odd."

Dean and his brother exchanged a fixed look. Sam nodded as he wrote the details down. "I think we have enough for right now. If you think of anything else, give us a call. And we'll let you know if we find out anything, just for your peace of mind."

The Winchesters left the house pretty quickly, leaving Linda to console her aunt. As they made their way to the car, Dean asked, "You got something?"

"I've got an idea but I need to check a few more things before I say anything."

"You're not gonna give me a hint?"

"Nope"

"Bitch"

"Jerk. First thing in the morning, I need to hit the library but right now I'm starving. Let's find a place to eat."

"Yes, sir." Dean gave him a mock salute, then mumbled under his breath. "Anyone who didn't know better would think you're in charge."

Sam just grinned to himself. He turned to watch the scenery fly by the window as they zoomed through town.

A little after ten in the morning, Dean picked his brother up from the library. "Take Main Street out of town," Sam ordered.

"Where're we going?"

"I arranged a meeting with Sylvia Watson, formerly Sylvia Caruthers. I've got the directions."

"And this woman is important?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I thought you read the file. Sylvia Caruthers was the girlfriend of the very first victim."

"Was she with him on the bridge?"

"No. But if my hunch is right, she'll still have some valuable information."

A half hour later, they were in Mrs. Watson's parlor, drinking coffee from dainty looking china cups that seemed incredibly out of place in the hands of the Winchesters.

"Cookie?' she offered. Sam declined but Dean picked up two from the plate. She sat back and took a sip of her own coffee. "Now, you said you wanted to talk about Bill?"

Sam consulted his notes. "I'm sorry. I have his name down as Clarence."

"That's right. His name was Clarence William Hartford but he hated the name Clarence. So his friends all called him Bill."

"I see. I know this may be painful but we need as much information as you can give us about Bill."

"Young man, it's been a long time since Bill's death. It took me a while but I've made peace with the memories and my part in it."

"Your part?" Dean interjected. "The police report said he was alone at the time of the accident."

Sylvia nodded. "He was but I was the reason he was driving so recklessly."

"Can you please explain?" Sam asked.

"Bill and I were high school sweethearts. We got engaged on graduation day. Bill joined the army right away. He knew that he would probably be sent to Vietnam but he said it would be worth it when he got back. He figured that we could use the GI bill to get a house and maybe some job training. Bill liked to dream big. We were going to have everything; the big house with a white picket fence, two or three beautiful children, a good steady job, the respect of our neighbors and friends; basically the picture perfect American life."

"So, what happened?" Sam questioned when she paused in her story.

"Well, it was Halloween…thirty-eight years ago. My mother had been after me about getting out more…no matter that my fiancé was overseas. So, when my sister decided to have a Halloween party, I decided to go just to shut my mother up. My cousin Jason came to pick me up. I was telling him how scared I was for Bill. I hadn't had a letter from him in a while. Jason pulled me into a hug and tried to assure me that everything was alright. What I didn't know was that Bill's tour was up and he had come home without telling me, so he could surprise me. He walked in on me when I was in Jason's arms. He got really angry. He had never met Jason, so he assumed I was cheating on him. I tried to explain it to him but he refused to listen to me. He climbed on his bike and took off. It was a few hours later that his mother called and told me about the accident. I spent a long time blaming myself, even though I tried to stop him. I tried to think of all the different ways I could've handled it but it didn't change anything. I had a hard time opening myself up to another man. I guess I was feeling unfaithful to Bill. Eventually, I met Robert and I moved on with my life…but I've never forgotten Bill."

"I know this is going to sound weird but do you remember what Bill was wearing that night?" Sam asked.

Sylvia thought for a moment. "I really don't know for sure. He had left in such a hurry. I just remember the back of his green cammo jacket as I chased behind him."

Sam cocked an eyebrow at Sylvia. "A camouflage jacket? Not a leather jacket?"

"I don't think Bill even owned a leather one."

"What about your cousin?" Dean broke in. "Was he wearing a leather jacket?"

"You know, he might have been. He had gone through a phase right about that time…all that leather stuff, jackets, boots and the like."

Sam flipped through some papers. "According to the police report, he was decapitated? Is that right?"

Sylvia shivered a bit. "I try not to think about it much. I just can't imagine dying like that. It must have been awful. The family obviously had a closed casket because of it. I guess I always felt a bit cheated. Like I hadn't said a proper goodbye since I couldn't see the body."

Sam closed up his book. "Thank you, Mrs. Watson. I think we have all we need."

Dean also added his thanks as they left the Watson house. As they drove away, he addressed his brother. "Are you thinking the same thing that I am? That Bill wasn't the first victim…but is actually our ghost."

"You got it. And I think he's targeting men wearing leather jackets to get revenge for the cheating he thought he saw. That would explain why the murders have been sporadic. There wasn't a leather jacket clad man crossing the bridge on Halloween every year."

"So, what do we do? We can only burn part of him since they never found his head."

"What about the rest of the heads? Is he collecting them?"

"I have no idea."

"Maybe Dad's journal will have something. If not, we could call Bobby."

"We better find out quick. Halloween is tomorrow."

The next evening, the Impala was headed for Gibson Bridge. "I really don't like this plan, Dean. It's too risky."

"I'm not exactly doing cartwheels here myself, especially since I'm the bait."

"That's what I mean. What if it doesn't work?"

"I want to be cremated. AND make sure you find MY head."

"Dean! Be serious."

"Then you better be handy with the salt rounds."

"If it really is my Bill, I can reach him. I know I can." Sylvia's voice came from the backseat. "I'm just having a hard time believing that this is real."

Sam nodded his head. "I know it sounds like the plot of a bad horror movie but believe us, this stuff really does happen. I'm glad you're giving us the benefit of the doubt. I can only imagine how crazy you thought we were when we asked for your help."

"Aren't we getting here too early?" Sylvia asked. "It's not even dark yet."

"We want to make sure that no one else gets there before us."

The air took on a decided chill as the sun set. The two brothers slowly began to walk across the bridge in the semi-darkness. Sylvia followed a step or so behind them. Dean tugged at the collar of his leather jacket.

"Nervous?"

"Hell no…it's just a bit cold out here."

Sam gave him a look that said he didn't believe his brother but he wasn't going to push the point. They both let their flashlights roam the bridge as they walked across. They didn't see anything on the first pass but on the way back, they caught sight of an old motorcycle lying off to the side.

"You see that, Sammy?"

"I sure do. You just better stay away from the edge."

They both heard Sylvia gasp. "You okay, Sylvia?" Sam asked.

"It's Bill's bike. It's really true."

The boys turned their lights as well as their guns in a circle around them waiting for Bill to appear. When he didn't, Dean called out. "Come on, Bill, we know you're here. We know you've been killing people and we know why. We have Sylvia with us. She wants to talk to you."

A dark headless figure appeared and began to push Dean towards the edge of the bridge. It happened so quickly that Dean lost the grip on his gun.

"Dean!"

"Sam…shoot!"

"No!" Sylvia screamed, as she placed herself in between Sam and his brother. "Bill, stop! Don't make them hurt you."

The figure had Dean at the edge of the bridge and had lifted him up to throw him over. Sam moved around Sylvia and took aim again. He fired and Bill dissipated. Unfortunately, when he disappeared, Dean slipped over the edge of the bridge. Dean felt himself falling and tried to grab the bridge rail to stop himself but he missed getting a good hand hold. His hand burned as it scrapped down the concrete.

Sam saw his brother fall and ran to the edge. "Dean!" He scanned the area below but didn't see him. "Dean, where are you? Answer me."

The figure rematerialized and headed towards Sam. Sylvia moved to block his path. "Bill, don't! Please, talk to me. I really loved you. I still do."

The figure stopped and turned toward Sylvia. Sam took a step towards him and raised his gun. "You'd better not have killed my brother…or these salt pellets will be the least of your worries."

The figure ignored Sam. His attention remained on Sylvia, who was speaking to him. "Bill, I need to talk to you. I wanted to explain this the night you left but you refused to listen to me. I wasn't cheating on you. I really wasn't."

A deep, menacing, gravel voice came from the figure. "I KNOW what I saw. You were in the arms of another man. I won't let him HAVE you. I'll kill him first."

"Please," Sylvia begged. "You have it all wrong."

"Don't tell me that. I know what is going on. I'm not stupid."

"I know you're not stupid but you misread the situation. The man you saw me with was my cousin…not a lover. He was taking me to a Halloween party at my sister's house. That was all. I loved you with all my heart. The whole time you were overseas, I never even thought about another man. I know you were confused and obviously hurt by what you saw but it was a mistake…a huge-life changing mistake."

"It can't be. I'm not mistaken. He wanted to take you from me. He has to pay."

"No, Bill. This isn't the way." Changing tactics, she continued. "If someone has to pay, let it be me. I'm the one who you think cheated. I'm the one who should pay. So, kill me…no one else."

The dark figure in front of her began to change. It began to lighten and the head seemed to grow out of the shoulders. Sylvia watched as her beloved Bill transformed out of the menacing mass. His voice took on a more human quality. "I could never hurt you. I love you. That's why I'm doing this."

"I love you, too. But we must put a stop to this."

He shook his head. "I was gone for so long that when I saw you in the arms of another man, I just assumed that you had found someone else. I had to leave. I was afraid I would hurt someone."

"If I had only known that you were coming home, I never would've made plans."

"That was me. I wanted to surprise you."

"That night was a misunderstanding. But what you've been doing since is just plain wrong. The Bill I loved wouldn't be killing people. Why are you doing such a horrible thing?"

"I've been so angry. I wanted to get rid of my rival but I kept finding him again. Over and over, I kill him but he keeps reappearing. There is something else, like part of me is missing. I can't explain it."

"Bill, do you know that you're dead."

"What? No, I'm not dead. I just left your house. I've been here since."

"I'm sorry, Bill but you are dead. This is where you died. You wrecked your bike here. You were missing a part of you. When the police found your body, your head was missing. It was never found."

Bill shook his head. "No, that isn't true. Why are you trying to confuse me?"

Sylvia stepped closer. "Look at me, Bill. Take a good hard look. I'm an old woman now. It's been thirty eight years since the last time you saw me. Everything I've said is true."

"You'll always be beautiful to me."

"That's your love talking."

"Then why don't I feel dead? Why do I keep seeing him?"

Sylvia drew from the explanation that the Winchesters had given her earlier. "It's your need for revenge that is causing you to keep seeing him. That's probably why you are still here. Your need for revenge is keeping you chained to this world."

"And I'm killing people?"

"Yes, you are. You're killing innocent people. Even though you think your killing him, you're actually replaying YOUR death, even down to the missing heads."

Bill shook his head. "I'm sorry, really sorry."

While the two were talking, Sam divided his attention between the pair and looked for his brother. "Dean? Come on, don't be dead." His eyes scanned along the barb wire fence praying that he wouldn't see a body. He wanted to go down and look for Dean but he was worried about leaving Sylvia alone with Bill. Damn! What possessed them to bring a civilian along? They should've just found a way to handle the situation by themselves. He was so intent on studying the creek bed below that he jumped when he heard rustling at the side of the bridge. "Dean?"

"No, it's the ghost of Christmas past."

"Why the hell didn't you answer me?"

"Oh, I don't know…why don't you give me a hand here?

Sam hurried to his brother's side. "Are you okay?"

"As well as can be expected after taking a dive off a bridge. And thanks so much for all your help with that too. I told you to shoot."

"I did. It was just a bit too late."

"Your timing is usually better."

"Sylvia got in my way."

"Shoulda shot her."

"Really, Dean,"

Dean got a bit huffy. "It's only rock salt. She would've lived." Nodding towards the couple, he asked. "What are the lovebirds doing anyhow?"

"Talking. She's explaining what really happened."

The brothers moved closer to the couple and listened in.

"You said you still love me? That's what broke through my anger."

"I've always loved you. Even when I moved on after your death. You still held a part of my heart. I guess you always will."

"Where do we go from here?"

"You can't stay here. You need to move on."

"But I don't know how."

Sam took that as his cue to break in. "You have to choose to."

"That's it? I just decide to leave this world and…poof, I'm gone?"

"It's your unfinished business that's holding you here…in this case, your anger and need for revenge. Once you deal with that, you will leave."

"Now that I know the truth about Sylvia, I'm done. I'm finally at peace."

The group turned as a bright light appeared and grew at one end of the bridge. "Go, Bill, with my love," Sylvia told him. "I'll meet you on the other side when it's my time."

"I will be waiting." Turning to the Winchesters, he said. "Thank you for what you've done. If it wasn't for you, I'd still be locked in my anger."

"Just doing our jobs," Sam replied.

Bill nodded as he turned back toward the light. Sylvia brushed away her tears as the light enveloped him. Once he had disappeared, Sam asked Sylvia. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's funny. I never thought I would get a chance to make things right with Bill but here I did. I just wish that I could've done it earlier, before all those deaths."

"You couldn't have known," Sam comforted her. "Most people don't believe this stuff until they have an experience. That's why the police didn't connect the dots."

"I still can't help but feel somewhat responsible. This all started with that fateful night."

Sam placed a hand on Sylvia's shoulder. "You'll have to deal with those emotions but you can take comfort in the fact that you stopped it. We couldn't have done it without you."

"Thanks, I guess that does help."

As they walked to the car, Sam began to smirk.

Dean shook his head. "What the hell are you laughing at?"

"If you think about it, he really could've been a headless horseman."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Let's get going. I promised Linda that I'd let her know what happened."

Sam chuckled lightly as they climbed into the car.

The next morning, the two brothers were enjoying breakfast at a local diner. Sam was leafing through the local paper. "Hey, Dean, you're not gonna believe this."

"What?"

"According to this police report, last night, a group of teenagers stumbled across an abandoned animal den that contained eleven skulls. The police are going to test them, but they think they're the missing heads from over the years. "

"You're kidding. All eleven of them? What kind of animal would have collected them?"

"They're thinking raccoon, but they are going to run tests on the hair that they found in the den."

"Are they going to return the heads to the bodies?"

"It says here that they are going to contact the next of kin to see what they want done with them."

Dean shook his head. "Well, at least that part of the mystery is now solved. Maybe, I'll give Linda a call and ask her to let me know what happens to them."

Sam folded the paper and set it aside. "Speaking of, how did it go with the ladies?"

"Fine. Aunt Linda was grateful to know what really happened but it won't change the fact that she spent seven years in prison for it, or that people will still think she was guilty."

"But maybe it'll change how she feels about herself."

"Maybe, who knows?"

"I bet your friend Linda was much more demonstrative of her appreciation of our effort."

Dean grinned lecherously. "Oh, yeah, she is great at…"

"I don't need a blow by blow. I know the drill."

"Speaking of blows…"

"Dean! Enough. God, you treat me like a virgin."

"Well, if the shoe fits."

Sam snorted in disgust. "You know better."

Dean laughed out loud. "Okay, okay…what's the next case?"

Sam opened his laptop and scrolled through a file. "There's a case in Michigan, not too far from here." The two brothers talked as they finished their meal and headed out on their next case.

The end

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note – Okay, folks, here's our first try at a Halloween story. Yeah, we know. With the Supernatural fandom, what's the difference? Most areas have local ghost stories that sound similar to this story. We thought it would be interesting at this time of year to explore the local lore. We combined and tweaked a couple of our own local ghost stories (the haunting of Gibbs Bridge in Richfield Township, OH and the Headless Motorcyclist of Elmore, OH, they can be found on the Net) in the writing of this one.
> 
> We also would like to thank our two Betas, Lauren and Carol. Your input has been invaluable. You've been great. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated. We welcome constructive input, or questions, but we ask for no flames. Our writing style is our style. It may not be everyone's cup of tea.
> 
> Thanks again to all the readers for stopping by and viewing our little "make believe". We hope you enjoyed it.


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